I snort a laugh, reading that my new clients have two Labrador retrievers and no children. “Jeez, it’s like an invasion of privacy. Whatever happened to, I don’t know, meeting with clients and talking to them?”
“Old times, girl. Old times.” Liv sighs, scanning over the stack of papers on her desk. “I’ve never seen anything like this place. Let me just tell you, I’m damn happy that I got a raise.”
“Because you deserve it?” I offer.
“Well, yes, of course I do.” She gives a sly smile. “That said, the number of people I’ve had to meet and figure out what in the hell they do around here is worth that money alone.” She takes a deep breath, moving her shoulders and lifting her chin. “Okay, and last but not least, if you need a breather”—I often do when dealing with difficult clients, as Liv is well aware—“I learned from another assistant I met in the break room that Holt has one helluva rooftop patio for all employees to enjoy, not just the big shots on the sixty-first floor.”
“Nice,” I say.
She nods. “Now, Ms. I-Am-So-Hot-the-Billionaire-Boss-Wants-to-Shag-Me, you have a meeting with James and the other agents in his division in five minutes to discuss stuff I don’t care about. Better get moving to Hogwarts—it’s the third door after the reception desk.”
“Hogwarts?” I repeat, rising from my desk.
“Ah, yes,” Liv says. “The folks around here got bored with the regular meeting room names so they proposed to the higher-ups that they rename them with locations from Harry Potter. I guess Micah agreed.”
Micah has a fun, non-serious side?
Now, that’s unexpected.
Okay, maybe I’m not opposed to finding out there’s more to him than money and power. “That’s surprising, but cool.” I step around my desk with coffee in hand.
“Yup. Very cool of him.” Liv glances down at the papers on her desk, hastily ignoring me as she does when working. “Now get moving or you’ll be late.”
“I’m already gone,” I call, exiting our office.
Being sweet and having a fun side are things I didn’t expect from Micah, but just because he erased two check marks on my do-not-date-Micah list, it’s still a very detailed one. There’s no way he can possibly erase all my bullet points.
He can’t be that good.
He is Micah Holt after all.
Micah
My mind is straying from work, centering solely on the woman who’s spellbound me. One floor below, Allie is likely staring at the flowers I sent her, and it’s taking all of my willpower not to go down there to find out if she likes my gesture. Most women I can read like an open book, because they are all the same. Allie, though, she’s a whole different breed of woman.
“Micah, are you with us?”
I blink back to consciousness, reminding myself that I’m sitting at a rectangular steel conference room table in the Ministry of Magic—which is located right next to my office—completely surrounded by glass walls. I still haven’t gotten used to the new names for the meeting rooms, but even if I’ve never seen the Harry Potter movies, happy employees equal excellent workers.
“Yes, I’m with you,” I tell Anderson, clasping my hands atop the table. “Run the conversation by me again.”
Anderson gives me a puzzled look before tapping his fingers against the papers in front of him. “We were talking about this new direction for Richardson.”
“Ah, that,” I mutter, steeling myself for the conversation ahead.
Holt’s V.P. of Real Estate, Isabella, says, “Yes, that. Do enlighten us why you made this decision.”
I spot the side of Anderson’s mouth lifting in amusement before I address Isabella, who, by her scowl, isn’t as amused. “It’s a personal matter to me.”
“I understand that, Micah,” Holt’s CFO, Travis, states as he sits straight as an arrow next to Anderson. “But we should be reconsidering this. Have you
looked at their reports?” He thrusts a hand through his copper-colored, stylish hair, causing his suit to stretch against his bulk. “This made sense as an acquisition to remove one of our competitors. It makes no sense to keep Richardson as is.”
I lean back in my swivel chair, lacing my hands behind my head. I can’t disagree. It is a terrible decision. We had paid a higher price for Richardson because we weren’t the only interested buyers. But this time—this one time—I’m okay with making a bad financial decision.
“I agree with Travis,” Isabella adds; her stern, light green eyes intent on mine. “It doesn’t make sense. We’d be throwing money away before we ever saw a return. Not only do we need to relocate the business, but we’ve taken all of their bestselling agents and brought them into Holt.”
Anderson glances my way and frowns. “They’re right.”